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October 28, 2011, 6:24 PM Back To 2011 Logs Quickrazor Bankshot Lockpick (Cubicron Buffer Zone) --- Quickrazor lowers himself to the ground, one thruster misfiring slightly. This does not reflect well onbthe medic's skill, but he's been distracted by many things recently...of which this little side trip is only one. Landing gently, Quickrazor has a look around, almost wishing he'd brought his blade. That wouldn't /help/, but it wouldn't have hurt either. Cruising along slowly, a street hovercar slowed as Quickrazor came out of the sky. His headlights blinked on and off erratically for a moment before stabilizing, now coming to a complete standstill, his scanners and cameras going over the Decepticon repeatedly, a grinding from under his hood his only real sign of the internal confusion he had going on. Bankshot glances around the area boredly, idly picking out a few viable 'donors' to approach. Cubicron isn't exactly within her usual business circles, but for a special meeting, she's willing to go a bit out of her way. The sight of a mech landing catches her attention, and she checks it against the cursory description she had of her new customer, smiling when it check out. With a quick look at the idling hovercar, the femme approaches Quickrazor with a bright smile. "Darling! There you are!" She calls out, stepping into place beside him and resting one hand on his arm. Quickrazor stiffens slightly and gazes at the femme who he /hoped/ was his contact and not a random femme looking to walk on the wilder side with a 'Con. His smile is forced, and he says between barely gritted denta, "Yes, I am here...finally." He /really/ hoped that no one else was watching... His focus realigns upon the femme who comes out now, her description...vaguely familiar to Lockpick. He remains where he is for a few more moments, then starts to glide forwards towards both without a word, just enough that he didnt brush the pavement. Sneaking? not really. Just being quiet and slow as he moved towards both, then finally speaks "... Hey." a pause "... are you Bankshot?"' "Calm down and walk with me." Bankshot murmurs quietly, looping her arm through his and tugging him in the opposite direction of the watching hovercar. "I'm the one you're looking for. They're gonna think a lot less about a flier dabbling with a grounder than they are a Decepticon making a deal." Shifting her weight slightly, she manages to reach into the subspace pocket on her hip without making it obvious or disentangling their arms, slipping a small vial into Quickrazor's hand with only the smallest of movements. "That should work." She pauses when the hovercar approaches, glancing over her shoulder at him and forcing a warm smile. "Why hello there, darling. I'm a little busy at the moment, but I can get back to you in a bit, alright?" Quickrazor nods fractionally and palms the material, deftly slipping a small credchip into her hsnd with the same smooth movement. He leans closer to her, covering her with his bulk, and whispers into her audial. "Speak of this to /anyone/ and you will truly be on my bad side, neutral. Remain silent and I will be certain to recall your designation when it is required...on either of our parts." He steos back, then, giving a mock glare at the clunky sounding hovercar. The etched vehicle blinks its' lights again, then reverses quickly "I'll wait over here." he notes as he slides back up the road to park right there, in the middle of the street. Somethings' definitely not right with him as one hazard light blinks on and off a few times, then goes dark. Bankshot laughs loudly in response, looking at Quickrazor with dimmed optics as she curls her hand around the credchip. "My customers value their privacy. I know how to keep my vocalizer muted, darling, don't worry." She responds just as quietly, smile never budging despite the threat. "If you've got the credits, I can get you things you wouldn't believe." She glances at the parked hovercar, narrowing her optics slightly, before turning her attention back to Quickrazor. "Anything else you need, darling? I can get you some fabulous polish at an even better price, or maybe some new tools?" Quickrazor nods. "As long as it's clear. I need nothing at the moment, but I will remember you. Where are you most easily found?" He assumes she is NOT welcome in Polyhex. Bankshot shrugs, placing one hand on her hip as she shifts her weight. "Around. For you, though?" She rattles off a comm number quickly, keeping her voice low so no one else can hear her. "Send me a list of what you want, I'll give you a price, and once we've made a deal..." She flicks over area she can access. "There's a section of dead city, a bit north of Tarn. We can meet there in the future, since I presume you're a mech who likes his privacy?" Quickrazor pointedly does /not/ offer his comm in return- being Chief Medical Officer of the entire army and already under scrutiny, inviting more would just be stupidity. "Then I suppose our business is done. I'd stay away from that hover, though- sounds like it's about to explode any moment now." Bankshot's smile widens into a grin, and for a moment there's an utterly insane gleam in her optics at just the prospect- but it's gone as quickly as it appears. "That's probably why it recognized me. I'm in the parts business, after all, darling. Either it wants repairs, which I can provide, or..." She chuckles lowly in amusement. "It wants more of the same, which I also provide. Doesn't matter which; its in no state to threaten someone like me." Quickrazor snickers. "I, too, am in the repair business, you might say...come to think of it, I could use some spare parts. Rotary blades and some rather outdated glider bits. I'd prefer new, but reconditioned is acceptable." "Rotary blades I can get you brand new all orn long. Outdated glider parts? Mmm..." Bankshot hums to herself, free hand coming up to tap her index finger against her cheek thoughtfully. "How outdated are we talking? I can get 'em for you no matter what," Or who she has to rip apart, but he doesn't need to know that. "But they might have to be refurbished." Quickrazor shrugs. "Prewar. And refurbished is fine." Quickrazor knew that if he could get the parts for Vortex, that'd be one less processor-ache and Hookshot finally might owe him one for the other- the mech had a /disturbing/ tendency to get himself slagged by other 'Cons. "How long for the former?" Bankshot nods, shifting her weight back and crossing her arms over her chest, careful not to scuff her finish. "The glider parts will take some time, given that they're a special order, but the blades?" Her head tilts slightly, the subtle buzz of a comm going out. "If you've got, mmm, two breems to wait, you can walk away with them right here." Quickrazor nods and unsubspaces another chip. That fragging copter better appreciate this. "I can wait." He folds his arms and watches his surroundings like a hawk, not really liking this place. Bankshot gives him another smile before transforming, cruising away quickly and smoothly to retrieve the requested parts. Sure enough, almost exactly two breems later she returns, gliding to a stop next to Quickrazor. She transforms again and reaches into her modified subspace, pulling out a stack of gleaming rotary blades, offering them to the medic for examination. "These work for you?" Quickrazor scans them- better than what he'd been fashioning, that's for sure. "Yes. How much?" He settled down to bargain, something he hadn't done in awhile. "Creds, services, or substances?" Bankshot's optics narrow slightly as she considers the offer. "Mmm, substances I have plenty of access to. Creds are always good, but..." She draws the word out, lips quirking up into a smirk. "What sort of services are we talking, darling?" Quickrazor shudders. "Not the kind /you're/ thinking of, I'm sure." His optics flash in a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "I told you that I am in the repair business. This includes the opposite of such, but my...work....limits how and where." Bankshot laughs outright at his response, still smirking. "You have no idea what I'm thinking of, darling. Tell you what, I'll make a deal with you. To celebrate getting a new customer, I'll throw these in free." As she says this, she holds the blades out for Quickrazor to take. "In return, anything you need that... Doesn't exactly make normal supply lists, you get from me. I only deal in quality, no matter what the request, and everything I sell can make it through even the strictest inspections. Interested?" Quickrazor considers this for an astrosecond, then nods once, firmly. He's certainly under no obligation to actually keep to the letter of this deal, though her bit about 'supply lists' led Quickrazor to believe that the femme knew more of his true place in Decepticon hierarchy than he'd originally expected. "Done." He holds out his servo, palm up, to seal the deal. Bankshot just smiles, shaking his hand quickly before handing over the blades. "Pleasure doing business with you, darling." She says warmly, optics glinting in amusement as she steps back. "Hopefully we'll see each other again real soon." That said, with a wink of an optic, she pivots on her heel, heading toward the waiting hovercar. Quickrazor hefts his new burden, shrugging, before taking to the skies with a stuttering jerk of that damned misfiring thruster. Category:LogsCategory:2011 LogsCategory:Quickrazor's LogsCategory:Bankshot's LogsCategory:Lockpick's LogsCategory:CSI Iahex